Trust Fund Fiancé (Texas Cattleman's Club: Rags to Riches 4)

The rest of it? It’d been hijacked by all the thoughts spinning through her head like a cyclone. And foremost in those thoughts loomed one prominent question...

What the hell have you just done?

Six

Ezekiel glanced at his dashboard as he shifted into Park.

9:21 p.m.

Late, but as he pushed open his car door and stepped out into Wingate Enterprises’s parking lot, he knew Luke would still be in his office. Ever since the shit had hit the fan with the fire at WinJet, the resulting lawsuits, bad press and plunge in business, his older brother had been damn near killing himself to create new areas of investment, including new hotels and the best corporate jet. As vice president of new product development, he seemed to view saving the company and jobs of their over two hundred employees as his white whale.

Ezekiel worried about him.

Usually, the roles were reversed. When their parents died, Luke had been the one to look out for Ezekiel, to care for him even though he’d only been twenty-one and grieving himself. And when Ezekiel had lost Melissa, Luke hadn’t left his side, even moving a small couch into his younger brother’s room to make sure if Ezekiel needed him, Luke would be right there.

So yes, Ezekiel was used to being the one on the receiving end of the concern. But now, every time he passed by his brother’s room at the house and his bed remained unslept in, that apprehension dug deeper, sprouting roots. Being a creative genius had its pros and cons. Luke could come up with amazing ideas and projects. But he could also become obsessive over them, everything else—including his welfare—relegated to the it’ll-take-care-of-itself class.

Ezekiel trekked across the lot, approaching the six-story building that sat right outside of Royal in a large industrial park. The unassuming, almost bland exterior of the structure didn’t scream family empire, but inside... He pulled free his wallet and waved his badge across the sensor beside the door, then entered. Inside, the modern, sleek and masterfully designed interior projected wealth, professionalism and power. Aunt Ava had chosen every painting, every piece of furniture and fixture herself. Anyone walking into this building could never doubt the success of those inside its glass walls.

Striding across the empty lobby, he took the elevator to the sixth floor. As soon as the doors slid open, he headed directly for his brother’s office. Unsurprisingly, he noted that Kelly Prentiss, Luke’s executive assistant of five years, sat at her desk, even at this late hour. Dedicated to his brother, she ensured he ate and took

at least minimal care of himself when no one else could.

“Hey, Zeke,” she greeted, smiling at him, warmth brightening her green eyes. The redheaded beauty still looked composed and fresh as if it were after nine in the morning instead of at night. “You know where he’s at.” She nodded her head toward the partially closed door adjacent to her desk.

“How’s he doing?” he murmured, aware his brother had the hearing of a bat and wouldn’t appreciate them talking about him behind his back. But if he asked Luke the same question, the inevitable “Fine,” would tell him exactly zero.

“He’s...” She paused, narrowing her eyes in the direction of his office. “Luke. Still trying to shoulder all of this. But I’m watching over him. And I’ll make sure he gets home tonight instead of pulling another all-nighter.”

“Thanks, Kelly. I’m going in. If you hear yelling, just ignore it. That’ll just be me, wrestling him to the floor and trying to knock some sense into him. Y’know, business as usual.”

She laughed, turning back to her computer. “I hear nothing and know even less. I’m practicing my speech just in case I’m called as a witness for the defense.”

He grinned and forged ahead into the lion’s den.

Luke perched on the couch in the sitting area, papers strewn all over the glass table. A disposable coffee cup teetered too close to the edge, a takeout container next to it. He glanced up from his study of the documents long enough to pin Ezekiel with a glare.

“You have never, nor will you ever be able to take me,” he grumbled.

Ezekiel snorted. They’d both wrestled in high school and college, and though it pained him to admit it, he’d never been able to pin his brother. Of course, Luke had been in the 182 weight class, and Ezekiel had been in 170. But Luke had never let him forget his undefeated status.

Ass.

“What are you doing here?” Luke muttered, his focus returning to the work spread out before him.

Knowing he possessed a short window before he lost his brother’s attention completely, Ezekiel dropped to the armchair flanking the couch.

“Since going home and talking to you wasn’t an option, I had to come here. I mean, telling your big brother you’re getting married isn’t something you should do over the phone.”

Luke froze, his hand stilling over a paper. Slowly, his head lifted, and astonishment darkened his eyes, his usually intense expression blank. He didn’t move except to blink. A couple of times.

Ezekiel should’ve felt even a sliver of satisfaction at shocking his brother—a remnant of the younger sibling syndrome. But only weariness slid through him, and he sank farther into the cushion, his legs sprawled out in front of him.

“What?” Luke finally blurted.

“I said, I’m getting married.” Sighing, Ezekiel laced his fingers over his stomach. “It’s a long story.”

“Start at the beginning,” Luke ordered. “And don’t skip a damn thing.”